


Debut Performance

by Phoebonica



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Ficlet, Gen, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:14:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26956405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebonica/pseuds/Phoebonica
Summary: Mettaton meets King Asgore for the 'first' time.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	Debut Performance

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thethrillof](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thethrillof/gifts).



> This was written [in response to a tumblr ask meme](https://phoebonicawrites.tumblr.com/post/616198266971979776/53-mettaton-asgore), with the prompt 'Keeping a Secret'. I was looking through my writing blog and thought I should post it here too.

Pretending you’ve never met the king before is no real test of your acting skills. You’ve been preparing for your new life for _such_ a long time, and even if you did slip up, it’s hardly likely Asgore would make the connection between the handsome and multitalented robot and the cheerful little ghost who used to sell him a fresh box of snails every month. You call him ‘Your Majesty’, knowing full well he’ll insist that you call him Mr Dreemurr. You bob a curtsey, lifting an imaginary skirt and sinking down on your wheel, since you don’t have a waist to bow from yet. (You’ll have to get clothes fitted for your new form, you remind yourself. You’re going to look _fabulous_ in a gown.)

Selling your eagerness to go and kill humans might be a _teensy_ bit more of a challenge, but you do love a good action sequence. Oddly enough, the king doesn’t seem enthused by your enthusiasm, though. If anything, he seems a tad unsettled, and hurriedly changes the subject.

And that’s where things _do_ get tricky, because it turns out that what Asgore’s really interested in, moreso than your magnificent new body, is your _SOUL_.

The one that Alphys supposedly created for you.

She does her best, poor thing. She stammers through some technobabble about morphic resonance or whatever, and you can tell from the way Asgore’s eyes start to glaze over that he doesn’t understand enough to question it, at least. And when Alphys really does start to flounder, that’s when you chime in, taking the reins of the conversation long enough to steer it in another direction. Mostly in the direction of yourself, and your brilliance – which only the equally brilliant Dr Alphys could have conceived of, of course! And throw in a heap of shameless flirting for good measure. At one point you find yourself smooching Asgore’s paw – or at least lifting it to the row of lights beneath your main display that more or less serves as your mouth – and you think Alphys is going to pass out, or at least dehydrate from all that perspiration. But you buy her some time to come up with a semi-plausible explanation of SOUL germination, and that’s what counts.

(Not that flirting with Asgore is any kind of hardship. Let’s just say all that gardening must give him quite a workout.)

“That went well,” you say brightly, once you’re back at the lab.

Alphys groans, and topples backward onto the floor, her hands over her eyes. “What am I going to do? I’m a roboticist! I barely know anything about SOUL biology, I’m not like –” She pauses for a second, blinking her inner eyelids, as if she’s lost the thread of that sentence, before continuing, “I can’t keep doing this. I should just give up now.”

“No,” you say, firmly, sinking down beside her. You take her claw between your gloves. “We’ve come so far, darling. We _can’t_ quit now. Don’t worry.” You flash a heart onto your display. “I’m here for you.”


End file.
